


Snails and Roses

by Chibiobiwan, LadyDisdayne



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Carpenter Qui-Gon Jinn, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Gardens & Gardening, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Writer Obi-Wan Kenobi, gardener obi-wan kenobi, no snails where harmed in the making of this fic, rose gardening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29816481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiobiwan/pseuds/Chibiobiwan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDisdayne/pseuds/LadyDisdayne
Summary: Obi-Wan doesn’t know why his new neighbor Qui-Gon cares about snails so much, he just doesn’t want them eating his prized roses.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	Snails and Roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pomiar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomiar/gifts).



> Happy (belated) Birthday to our dear Pom Pom. We love you! 
> 
> Thank you for the beta Cat!

He’s doing it again. Obi-Wan thought, gripping his cup of tea tighter, his knuckles almost white with the strain. In all of his time as a secondary school teacher, nothing had been as absolutely frustrating as watching his new neighbor take a walk through the rain, whistling delightedly to himself as he spun his umbrella without a care in the world. 

Obi-Wan glared out his front window as the tall form bent, gracefully lifting something from the sidewalk. A few somethings if Obi-Wan wasn’t mistaken. 

Qui-Gon was smiling fondly, his large hands cradling their contents with the utmost care before placing them onto the fresh, rich soil of Obi-Wan’s front garden. Obi-Wan would have found it endearing if he didn’t know exactly how much destruction was held in those hands. 

Qui-Gon took a few steps forward before beginning the entire process anew and Obi-Wan whimpered as yet another snail was gently placed into his prized rose bed.

After the surprising worldwide success of his book, a historically accurate retelling of the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise, Obi-Wan sought out peace and quiet, using the unforeseen windfall to buy his dream cottage in the small, green town of Endor. It had been everything he had hoped for and more, and he spent his days tending his roses and slowly working on research with a cup of tea in his garden. 

And then Qui-Gon Jinn moved into the rundown home next door and had been a menace to Obi-Wan’s peace of mind ever since. 

Every morning, Qui-Gon reverently moved every snail he came across on the sidewalk onto the nearest patch of greenery, which more often than not ended up being Obi-Wan’s award winning roses. 

Obi-Wan clenched his cup tighter as another battalion of the leaf eating pests were given a new home in his Juliet rose bush. The rare plant had been a gift from Yoda, his mentor, the only man Obi-Wan would even come close to calling a father figure, before he died.

Obi-Wan glared through the window, the china in his hand clicking as it was carefully placed onto the counter. Qui-Gon noticed his gaze and waved excitedly without a single care in the world. 

Obi-Wan finally had enough and stormed outside, ignoring the light misting rain as it soaked into his sweater. Qui-Gon had moved on to the next batch of snails, placing them onto the ground lining Obi-Wan’s peonies. 

“Mr. Jinn.” Obi-Wan choked out as one enterprising mollusk made its way towards a pink flower. 

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon smiled, warm and bright in the gloom of the morning, taking Obi-Wan off guard with how casually his name rolled from Qui-Gon’s tongue, even as he picked up yet another snail. “Good morning to you.”

Obi-Wan swallowed a gag as the snail curled in on itself. “Oh, good morning to you as well, Mr. Jinn. Um. May I ask what it is you are doing?” 

Qui-Gon beamed at the question, his eyes excited. “Please, call me Qui-Gon. And I’m helping my neighbors, of course.”

“Helping your...” Obi-Wan sputtered, gesturing to the snail happily crawling up Qui-Gon’s large palm. “They’re snails. Bugs that want nothing more than to eat my roses.”

“All life is precious, Obi-Wan. Even a snail’s. And I doubt they are after your roses in particular.” Qui-Gon’s smile was soft as he handed Obi-Wan the slimy creature and patted him on the shoulder, somehow managing to completely ignore the full body shudder that ran through Obi-Wan in utter revulsion. “Have a good day Obi-Wan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t do much more than glance between the retreating form and the snail in his hand. Barely breathing, he slowly deposited it next to the fence that separated their gardens, before shaking his hand in disgust and glaring at the overrun pathway and hedge that filled Qui-Gon’s yard. Obi-Wan told himself that the man was utterly intolerable and headed back home to finish his tea, his heartbeat echoing in his ears to the sound of Qui-Gon’s promise that he would see him tomorrow. 

Early the following morning, Obi-Wan found himself pruning his roses as he told himself he wasn’t waiting for Qui-Gon to pass on his morning stroll. Even if he was waiting to see Qui-Gon, it would be to discuss the snail shaped issue at hand, and not because of his bright blue eyes and the way his brow crinkled when he smiled. No, Obi-Wan firmly told himself, the morning was clear and the sun was bright, but the earth was rich and still moist, the perfect day for weeding, and that was why Obi-Wan had spent the last four hours on his knees in the dirt.

As the morning wore on with no sign of Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan found himself glancing more and more often at the overgrowth of Qui-Gon’s garden down the lane. It was shameful really, an uncivilized mess of brambles and thorns. And probably where the snails keep coming from, Obi-Wan thought, noticing another telltale shimmering trail leading into his bushes.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan returned to work, plucking and pruning, lost in his own thoughts and musings, wondering if it would be impolite to ask Qui-Gon if he needed advice on a properly maintained garden. 

“Good morning!” Obi-Wan startled in surprise, dropping his spade when Qui-Gon’s voice rumbled close to his ear. Obi-Wan looked up to find Qui-Gon bent next to him, eyes sparkling with mirth as he watched Obi-Wan relax the hand he had clenched to his chest. 

“Good morning.” Obi-Wan replied, catching his breath. 

“These are stunning Obi-Wan. What are they?” Qui-Gon leaned closer to smell the fuchsia roses bush Obi-Wan had been tending, pulling the fragile stem closer to his nose. 

Obi-Wan grimaced as a stray petal fell. “Charles de Mills, a heritage breed distinct for its fragrant petals. That particular bush is a descendant of those in the rose garden at Naboo Manor.”

“Is that so?” Qui-Gon released the stem in a plume of pollen and sweet fragrance that surrounded them both. 

“Yes.” Obi-Wan replied simply as Qui-Gon shifted and knelt beside him in silence as if waiting for him to continue, leaning in close enough Obi-Wan could feel the heat of his skin and smell the sweetness of freshly shaved wood and the spicy undercurrent of whatever tea Qui-Gon had had with breakfast.  
  
“The petals were often dried and used to scent perfumes and fabrics. The sweetest were even used to flavor wine.”

“Are they all edible?” Qui-Gon asked, eyeing Obi-Wan’s Juliet bush. 

“No.” Obi-Wan scooted down the row to his Damasks, far away from the blush flowers. “These Damasks are the most flavorful ones I grow. You can make a fairly fragrant tea from the petals or the hips.”

Qui-Gon hummed, moving even closer to Obi-Wan and the Damasks, inhaling deeply. “That sounds downright delicious. Have you ever tried it?” 

“Once. I found it to be a bit too delicate for my tastes. I much prefer Tarine or a nice jasmine if I want something floral.” 

“A man after my own heart. Although, I wouldn’t mind trying a tea made from your roses myself. They are so beautiful and well cared for, they must make exquisite tea as well.” 

Obi-Wan felt a blush creep up his cheeks at the complement, Qui-Gon’s gaze never leaving his. For someone who enjoyed depositing snails in Obi-Wan’s bushes, Qui-Gon was surprisingly charming. 

“Well, if you are interested in rose teas, you do happen to have a large Lady Of Shalott bush along your side wall, which would make a lovely tea.” Not that you would ever be able to find it in that mess you call a garden, Obi-Wan thought. He himself had only noticed the struggling bush when he had to make a repair to the stone wall that separated their back gardens.

“I do?” Qui-Gon’s eyebrow arched gracefully in curiosity. 

“Yes. I would be more than happy to point it out to you if you would like, help get you started on making some.” 

“That would be perfect.” Qui-Gon rose from his place on the ground, dusting off his knees. Qui-Gon checked his watch and grimaced. “Why don’t you come by this afternoon? Say three o’clock? I’m late to a meeting, but am free the rest of the day if that doesn’t work for you.”

“That should be just fine. I will see you then.” Obi-Wan waved in farewell as Qui-Gon hurried home. 

Obi-Wan shook his head in bewilderment, wondering what had become of his plan to confront Qui-Gon about the snails. Obi-Wan had gotten swept up in his love for his roses and the warmth of Qui-Gon’s smile. Obi-Wan sighed and gathered his tools, deciding that he would simply bring it up when they met that afternoon.

By two-thirty, Obi-Wan was anxious, caught between excitement and concern, a feeling not unlike his first day of teaching or when he was pitching his book idea to Dagobah Publishing. 

At promptly two-fifty, Obi-Wan let himself leave the front door, taking the time to check his flowers once again as he departed his gate and made his way through Qui-Gon’s. 

Qui-Gon’s yard was far worse than he had imagined, a tangled mess of weeds choking out the once proud bushes and flowers. To the inexperienced eye, it would simply appear as if the garden was designed to be a natural garden, a growing trend that Obi-Wan found quite beautiful. But even those required planning, making sure each plant had space to grow happily.

Qui-Gon’s garden, however, was something else entirely. Now that Obi-Wan was closer, it was obvious Qui-Gon had been making sure each plant was watered and even fertilized, as if he was encouraging the untamed growth. 

What was clear was Qui-Gon wanted to encourage his garden to grow, but lacked restraint and finesse. It was verdant chaos, both beautiful and destructive. 

Before Qui-Gon moved in, the cottage had stood vacant for years due to some sort of legal issues with the owners of the property. By the time it had been cleared for sale, the historical home had fallen into serious disrepair and neglect and so Obi-Wan was surprised to find the front door in perfect condition, even if it was hidden behind a thick curtain of ivy. 

Qui-Gon answered the door, waving Obi-Wan inside. “Obi-Wan! Please come in. Please excuse the mess. I just got started working on this room.” 

Mess was an understatement, the entire room was filled, from books and boxes stacked along one side, to a make shift work table covered in cans of paint and lacquer. Long strips of the chair rail and crown moulding had been removed and were in various stages of restoration.

Peeking around a corner, Obi-Wan could make out a long hallway that was further along in the process, but still needed a coat of paint or two. The work that Obi-Wan could see was completed was impressive, carefully done. 

“You’re restoring everything yourself?” Obi-Wan asked, eyebrows raised. There was a good reason he had made sure his own home was one of the many that had been well maintained and modernized on the street. Homes as old as these were often too much to handle, especially when they had sat empty as long as Qui-Gon’s had. 

Qui-Gon nodded. “Yes, everything except the electrical and actual plumping. I had to call in a few favors to get that straightened out before I even moved in.”

“Are these original?” Obi-Wan walked the room, admiring the details and scroll work on the various wood panels. 

“Some are. Others I needed to carve new to match the rest. I’ve tried to keep as much as I can, but some damage was beyond repair. I think I have done well enough that it will be difficult to tell the difference, once they are sanded and stained of course.”

“I couldn’t even tell as is.” Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon wide-eyed, awed by the raw talent he saw in the delicate woodwork throughout the room.   
  
“That is the idea. When you’ve been restoring homes and properties as long as I have, you tend to pick up a few things.” Qui-Gon smiled. “But enough about my dusty old house. Shall we take a look at my garden?”

“Lead the way.” Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon through the house, taking in the care and love Qui-Gon had poured into every room. He had been cautious, Obi-Wan noticed, of keeping the home’s historical integrity. It was something that Obi-Wan appreciated, having taught and studied history as long as he did before his book's success. 

The back garden was even worse off than the front, a tangled mass that they had to almost crawl through to reach the rose bush in question. Just as Obi-Wan expected, a stray rope of ivy and weeds had begun choking off its precious supply of nutrients and sunlight.

Obi-Wan quickly pointed this out to Qui-Gon, who frowned as Obi-Wan explained that much of the garden was in peril if he continued to let it grow unchecked. 

“I have always tried to maintain life, to encourage it to grow as nature intended.” Qui-Gon explained. 

“Sometimes, in order for something to grow and be healthy, you have to trim it back. This bush will die if you continue to let it grow as is.” Qui-Gon sighed, frown deepening impossibly further. “The good news is, we caught it in time. And with proper care you can have a garden that is both as nature intended and actually healthy.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” Qui-Gon sighed and knelt next to the Lady Of Shalott rose, finding a single tiny bud trying to force its way towards the sun. 

“Well then, it's fortunate for you that I do.” Obi-Wan grinned. 

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Obi-Wan. From what you said, it would practically be a full time job.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be doing it alone. You would be right there with me.”

Qui-Gon smiled in return. “When should we start?”

They spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering what they could of the garden areas, planning how they could save as many of the plants as possible, keeping the do no harm mentality Qui-Gon seemed to favor, while still cutting back enough to give them a chance to survive. 

They worked their way around the vast space, spending hours side by side. The cool night air made Obi-Wan shiver as he waved goodbye. As he crawled into bed that night, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the delight in Qui-Gon’s eyes every time they made a new discovery of what his garden held, or the warmth of him at Obi-Wan's side. 

The next afternoon, Obi-Wan was once again on his knees in his flowerbeds when Qui-Gon stopped by, asking if he was available to get started on pulling weeds. 

“I figured we could start with some snacks. If you’re free, that is.” He held up a newly purchased package of greenery bags and a box of pastries. 

Obi-Wan hurried and gathered his tools and some supplies before following Qui-Gon into the jungle once more. Snacks was an understatement Obi-Wan soon discovered. Qui-Gon unboxed neat stacks of biscuits and jam filled sweets, savory stuffed breads, and a smorgasbord of other treats provided by one of his clients, thanking him for helping her restore a family heirloom. 

Obi-Wan’s historian heart was easily caught up in Qui-Gon’s work as a restorer of antiquities and homes. The history behind the cottages and the town proper had been what had drawn Obi-Wan to Endor in the first place, and it seemed to be the case for Qui-Gon as well. Qui-Gon had found his niche in life early, using his strong hands and kind nature to breathe life back into forgotten treasures and entire homes. He had saved and waited for years to find the perfect project that he could turn into his forever home.

By the time they even began work on the weeds, the afternoon shadows had begun to grow long, but the garden was filled with laughter and comfortable silence in turns as the bags were filled to bursting with the worst of the weeds and rotting bushes.

Obi-Wan returned home that evening exhausted to the bone, aching in satisfaction of a job well done and a day well spent. He felt lighter than he had in a long time, Qui-Gon’s easy laughter and earnestness filling a gap in his heart Obi-Wan hadn’t even known was missing. 

One afternoon turned to two, then three and four, until it was an unspoken fact of daily life that Obi-Wan would join Qui-Gon for afternoon tea and gardening. The work was slow, each vine and stray leaf needed to be carefully corrected and properly retrained to fill its space. 

At first, Obi-Wan would often hear Qui-Gon sighing and grumbling at the neatly trimmed hedges and artfully positioned flowers, his brow creasing in such a way Obi-Wan wished he could smooth his distress away. But, as spring deepened into the beginnings of summer, Qui-Gon’s garden began to show signs of restored life, and his frown disappeared along with the rotting foliage. The garden came alive and flowers Obi-Wan hadn’t even known were there began to bloom as well, filling in the few spaces left. If it wasn’t for the snails Qui-Gon insisted on leaving alone to their own devices, it would be the perfect garden. 

“Well, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan pointed to the dozens of rosebuds growing on the Lady Of Shalott rose as he stood, preparing to leave for the day, “I think your hard work is beginning to pay off. There isn’t much more I can teach you. The rest if it will just be maintenance, trimming and pruning and the like.” Obi-Wan’s heart ached at the thought of going back to spending his afternoons alone in his cold office. He had come to greatly enjoy his time in Qui-Gon’s home and garden, even if his publisher had begun to hound him for the next draft of his work on Darth Sidious as the weeks spun on. 

“All thanks to you, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon pulled off his worn gloves and lightly brushed his thumb along Obi-Wan’s cheek. “You had a bit of dirt under your eye.” He explained with a soft smile. Obi-Wan wished he could lean into the touch, into the lingering warmth of Qui-Gon’s hand. Obi-Wan’s heartache deepened when Qui-Gon dropped his hand, leaving him colder than before. 

“I don’t know about that. You have quite the natural green thumb.” Once he had been pointed in the right direction, Qui-Gon had taken to natural gardening with joy and relish. He seemed almost connected to the plants in a way that, as a seasoned rose gardener, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but be envious of. He had even begun discussing getting a small beehive, something that was far out of Obi-Wan’s skillset. 

“Really, Obi-Wan. None of this would have been possible without your help.” Qui-Gon shook his head and led Obi-Wan to the garden gate. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think that somehow, this goodbye would be their last. There was no reason for him to keep helping Qui-Gon, not really with how much he had learned and grown. 

“Thank you again for your help today. I have to make a delivery in the morning, but I should be home before our normal time tomorrow. Maybe if a couple of the roses bloom, we can get started on getting them ready to dry?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the opening Qui-Gon offered. “I doubt they will be ready that soon, but I am available to come take a look with you, if you would like. I just need to finish my entry form for the Rose Festival. I keep forgetting to get it submitted.”

“I’m sure you and your gorgeous roses will stun the judges,” Qui-Gon said with a grin, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan, “I’ll pick up some of those raspberry tarts you like on my way home and we can make a celebration of it, for the garden’s health and your future success.” 

Obi-Wan blushed at Qui-Gon’s praise. The raspberry tarts in question were his favorites, a fact Qui-Gon had picked up on and had begun exploiting at every opportunity. 

“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. I still need to come in first in the Endor Fair, then I can take on the Rose Festival itself. You don’t need to go out of your way for them.”

“Then think of them as a long overdue proper thank you gift.” Obi-Wan shook his head as we waved goodbye, knowing he had lost. When Qui-Gon put his mind to something, there was no stopping him.

The entry form for The Grand Royal Coruscant Rose and Flower Festival was just as long as its name, Obi-Wan decided with a yawn as he submitted his final documents. The three part form could have been boiled down to a simple information sheet and entry information, but instead the Rose Council, as the officiators had become known, had decided to include a fifty question quiz, an essay portion on what he wanted to enter, as well as an almost invasive personal information sheet. 

In addition to the entry form, Obi-Wan would need to pass a qualifying round by placing first in Endor before his entry would be accepted and he would be invited to participate in the Rose Festival proper later that summer. He had taken a stroll around the town with Qui-Gon the weekend prior to scope out the most promising competition, his friend Siri Tachi and a relatively unknown contender, Maul Opress. Both had similarly rare and beautiful blooms budding in their gardens. He was lucky he had been able to convince Qui-Gon to stop placing snails near the Juliet bush.

With only a week left before the fair, Obi-Wan woke up every morning at dawn to check on his bushes and whisper encouragement to his Juliet bush. He was certain that the rose would be awarded the recognition that it deserved when Yoda had still been alive.

The day of the fair, Obi-Wan felt a bit melancholy despite having looked forward to finally presenting the last gift he had from his mentor. He went out to cut the roses for his entry at the light creeping over the surrounding hills, bathing them in gold.

Obi-Wan knew something was wrong before he even knelt down. With shaking hands, he cradled the biggest bloom in his hands. Its pedals were littered with holes. Chest tight and horror crawling through his veins, Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered over the bush, rose after rose, leaf after leaf utterly ravaged overnight.

“No, no, no, no, no….” Obi-Wan didn’t even realize he was moaning until a confused and messy haired Qui-Gon appeared over the stone fence. 

“Obi-Wan? Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan tore his eyes from his last memory of his mentor, the only thing he had left of someone he dearly loved and looked at the man he had somehow managed to be beguiled by.

“You.” Obi-Wan choked out, his hands clenching into the dirt.

“What’s wrong?” Qui-Gon asked, utterly ignorant of the carnage that his disregard had wrought.

“Your damn snails!” Obi-Wan threw a hand full of dirt at Qui-Gon, most of it hitting the stone wall, but a few dark clumps harmlessly hit the other man. Qui-Gon stepped back as if it had been a handful of rocks.

Obi-Wan stumbled to his feet, letting the second handful of dirt fall through his fingers.

“There’s nothing left, they’ve eaten everything—” Obi-Wan choked off, realizing to his horror that he was starting to cry. Embarrassed beyond belief, Obi-Wan turned around and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“God, I’m sorry. Obi-Wan, I didn’t think—”

“Why would you?!” Obi-Wan said sharply over his shoulder, heart thundering as he tried to think through the anger and hurt that was flooding him.

“Is there anything I can do?” Qui-Gon asked beseechingly.

“No! Just, leave me alone.” Obi-Wan retreated to his cottage to hide and try to pretend like he didn’t just melt down over roses. But they weren’t just any roses, they were the result of years of hard work and love. And they had been destroyed in an instant.

Obi-Wan finally wiped away his tears and had a hot cup of tea before stealing himself to peer outside. Qui-Gon was long gone, as were the bits of dirt Obi-Wan had thrown. With a deep breath he went back to his Juliet bush to further examine the damage. It was still alive and despite the numerous injuries, would live and rebloom. The flowers were all lost causes, and Obi-Wan cut each and every one of them down, throwing the shredded remains into his compost. 

He didn’t have a lot of time before the rose contestants needed to arrive at the fair and, for a moment, Obi-Wan wondered if it would be better to just not go at all. If Yoda had still been alive he would have… probably hit Obi-Wan with his cane for even thinking such a thing. Obi-Wan let out a broken laugh. Try or do not, well, he still had other roses, nothing near as beautiful, but the Damask were maybe more fragrant.

Disappointed and heavy-hearted, he whispered apologies to his Juliet bush, promising that he’d protect it better as he found a lingering snail and bitterly trekked to the fence between his and Qui-Gon’s gardens and tossed it over the edge.

With barely enough time left, Obi-Wan harvested the best of his Damask roses and managed to arrive just in the nick of time to place his entry on the table next to his information placard.

He must have looked like a wreck as he huffed out a sigh because Siri gave him a concerned look as he went to leave, “Everything alright Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan gave a short nod, not wanting to talk about it. The judging would take a few hours and until then entrants were meant to mingle and appreciate the roses, but Obi-Wan wasn’t in the mood. Instead, he walked around the bright and sunny fair, alone as he watched friends and couples laugh and have fun.

That could have been him and Qui-Gon.

He’d been such an idiot. Obi-Wan had enjoyed the time they had spent together over the past few weeks, but truthfully he barely knew Qui-Gon and the other man certainly didn’t realize why Obi-Wan had been so upset. No doubt even now he would be thinking that Obi-Wan had overreacted and that the snails had just been trying to live their best lives. Obi-Wan curled his arms around himself despite the warm weather. They were too different and cared about different things and should have known better than to think it could have been the beginning of something.

Obi-Wan made his way back to the judging tent in time to hear the announcement of the winners. Siri managed to take first with her beautiful pale yellow blooms. Surprisingly, with his second rate roses, Obi-Wan placed in second—not that it would do any good. Even with his surprisingly high placement, he wouldn’t be allowed to continue on to the Rose Festival championship. And finally in third was the newcomer Maul, who glared at all and sundry. The remaining contestant clapped politely before making their way out of the tent.

Obi-Wan held his roses to his chest as he left, barely managing to hide his disappointment as he congratulated Siri and slipped out of the tent. There, Qui-Gon stood, a familiar box of raspberry tarts in hand and an apologetic look on his face.

Obi-Wan wanted to walk away, no, run away. He felt stupid, and angry, and mostly sad knowing that the dream of the last few weeks was over.

“How did it go? You entered your Damask roses instead?” Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan kept his distance, letting people pass between them as they walked through the fair. “I got second place.”

Relief broke in Qui-Gon’s eyes, “That’s good!”

Qui-Gon’s tentative smile failed when Obi-Wan gave no answering one.

“I suppose.” Obi-Wan said quietly.

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan questioningly, but when Obi-Wan didn’t elaborate he took a few steps forward so that they were on the same side of the path, “I know things didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to, but I thought that maybe we could still—”

“No.” Obi-Wan said quickly, his stomach turning as he realized he needed to shut this line of thought down. “I don’t think it's a good idea anymore Qui-Gon.”

They both knew what Obi-Wan was talking about.

“Obi-Wan, I’m sorry—”

“I know.” Obi-Wan cut him off, and he did. Even just a few short weeks was enough to know that Qui-Gon wasn’t malicious, he hadn’t intended for the snails he saved to migrate into Obi-Wan’s garden. But if he had actually cared then maybe— It didn’t matter. To Qui-Gon, what Obi-Wan cared about was just as important as a snail. Obi-Wan knew that and ignored it until it was too late.

“I need to go. Goodbye, Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan looked away, purposefully ignoring the box of tarts held tightly in Qui-Gon’s hands as he left the fair.

The next few days were hard. Obi-Wan spent time in his garden, dealing with the damage done by the rare snail he found. It almost made him wonder if the pests had realized what they had done and retreated to Qui-Gon’s garden. It would have taken dozens of them to wreck the havoc he had found literally overnight. It made no sense, but Obi-Wan did his best to make sure it wouldn’t ever happen again before he retreated into his cottage to work.

However, Obi-Wan found that the quiet solitude he had once enjoyed at home felt terribly lonely now. He had gotten used to talking and spending time with… with a friend every day and now it was just him. When he realized he was contemplating looking out the window to see any sign of his neighbor, Obi-Wan decided it was time to get out of his own head.

Moving out to the countryside had been a dream of his for a long time, but it had come at the cost of not seeing his best friends, Bant and Garen, nearly as often as he used to, so when he called it was a rare treat for all three of them. Bant eagerly volunteered to drive her and Garen out to the nearest city to spend the afternoon with Obi-Wan.

More than a little relieved, Obi-Wan mentally counted down the days till he would see his friends. He managed to avoid Qui-Gon in the meanwhile and get his Juliet bush looking a bit healthier. New rose buds were starting, with one or two almost in bloom and in a week he’d have a half dozen roses again.

It wasn’t until late Thursday afternoon, almost two weeks since he had last seen Qui-Gon, when he saw him standing at the edge between their gardens, bending forward to scoop something from the ground. He looked up, and, noticing Obi-Wan’s stare, gave a half hearted wave before depositing the offending snail on his side of the rock wall and turning away. Even after all that had happened, Qui-Gon still was Qui-Gon, tending to the destructive creatures as if they were something that deserved all the care and kindness in the world. 

Finally that weekend, Obi-Wan headed out with umbrella in hand as a storm front brought periodic rain and cold to an otherwise warm summer. Thankfully, he only needed his umbrella until the bus came, as it cleared up by the time he was dropped off and headed to the restaurant they had decided on.

Obi-Wan felt a smile break across his face for the first time in two weeks as he greeted his old friends. The next few hours were a balm to Obi-Wan’s heart as they reminisced about old memories and made inside jokes. Bant and Garen understood why Obi-Wan was so disappointed about the Rose Festival and consoled him with the idea that he could apply again next year. It was the difference between an almost stranger and friends who knew him well.

With reluctance a few hours later Obi-Wan hugged Bant and then Garen goodbye, careful not to hold on a second too long. His friends knew him all too well, and if he wasn’t careful he had no doubt that they would catch onto the melancholy he had found himself slipping into more and more often.

Starting over in Endor was supposed to be living the dream, but sometimes it was lonely, and nothing helped to remind him of that more than spending a scant few hours with his friends before saying goodbye.

It was fine. He waved goodbye for the fifth time, and turned away to walk down the road. He loved his cottage with his garden with his half eaten roses and the stone fireplace that sat empty most nights because what was the point really? 

The first patter of rain hit Obi-Wan when he was a block away from the bus stop. He swore under his breath as he realized he had forgotten his umbrella. Obi-Wan stopped and turned back before shaking his head, the restaurant was closing as they left and they had stood outside talking until Obi-Wan had to leave to catch his bus home. 

With a heavy sigh, Obi-Wan turned the collar of his jacket up and hunched down. It only made sense that bad would follow good like everything else in his life. 

Despite remembering otherwise, Obi-Wan hoped to spot a small alcove for pedestrians to wait as the rain fell into a steady patter. But no, it was still a solitary bench and sign.

Obi-Wan checked his watch, raindrops catching on its surface making it hard to read. At least he shouldn’t have to wait long, five minutes tops. No doubt he’d be soaked by then, but at least he wouldn’t catch hypothermia any time soon.

Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan saw a black umbrella holding figure approach. 

“Would you like to share? Hopefully we won’t be waiting long.” If the voice and face had belonged to any other man the question would have been a welcome relief. Qui-Gon had raised his umbrella higher and outward to reveal his callow face.

“No, thank you.” Obi-Wan said sharper than was necessary. He was well aware Qui-Gon hadn’t meant to make him lose the rose competition, but his ignorance was nearly as grating as his startled frown.

“Obi-Wan? Where’s your umbrella? Here, I really don’t mind.”

Qui-Gon held the umbrella at arms length and took a step forward, making Obi-Wan take a step back in return.

“No, I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” Obi-Wan huddled more into himself, and wished that, like a turtle, he could fully retract his head into his shell in response to predators. 

“And stop that— you’re getting yourself wet.” Obi-Wan added when Qui-Gon wouldn’t lower the umbrella, making it so that not even his head was covered.

“My jacket has a hood, here, you can take my umbrella.” Qui-Gon took another step forward and if Obi-Wan had been a cat his fur would have bristled. He didn’t want anything to do with Qui-Gon’s good intentions and his naïve do-gooder ways.

“I said no!” Both of them froze. Obi-Wan’s voice, loud and frustrated enough to be a yell. He looked away in embarrassment. This just showed that Qui-Gon brought out the worst in him.

“Obi-Wan… you are going to be soaked by the time the bus comes.”

“I’m already soaked, it doesn’t matter.” Obi-Wan snapped back, feeling like a child.

Qui-Gon sighed and took a step back giving Obi-Wan his space. The ice between them made the wait for the bus feel even colder as the rain started to seep through the neck of his wool coat. 

Finally, the bright headlights of the bus appeared around the corner. With relief, Obi-Wan was the first on the bus, full with weekend travelers despite the late hour. Everyone was tired, and Obi-Wan started to worry he’d have to stand when he spotted an empty bench. He sat down in relief before meeting Qui-Gon’s eyes as the other man awkwardly moved down the aisle looking for a seat as well.

Somewhat desperately, Obi-Wan looked behind him. The back bench was filled with a pile of teenagers who paid no mind. With a groan Obi-Wan turned back to look at Qui-Gon who stared back at him while awkwardly biting his lip.

“Umm… Do you mind if I—” Qui-Gon didn’t finish his sentence, looking like he knew the answer and for a vindictive moment Obi-Wan wanted to say no and prove him right.

“Yes, fine.” Obi-Wan shoved himself against the wall of the bus. Trying to get as far from the other half of the bench as possible.

For his part, Qui-Gon seemed equally uncomfortable, practically sitting halfway into the aisle until the bus started up and jolted him almost off the seat entirely.

Obi-Wan very carefully didn’t pay attention as Qui-Gon managed to stabilize himself and creep slightly closer.

That would have been fine if not for the next left-hand turn the bus took pushing him right into Obi-Wan.

“I’m sorry!” Qui-Gon said quickly. Obi-Wan sighed, feeling like the other man must think he was some kind of petty tyrant at this point.

“It’s fine.” Obi-Wan rested his head on the window, watching dark shadows of fields and hedges go by as they left town. He was wet and cold, and if he hadn’t been such an asshole earlier then maybe he wouldn’t be so wet and cold and squashed next to the same man he had so summarily shunned.

The ride back to their village was only an hour. Obi-Wan shouldn’t have fallen asleep, but he found his head slightly jolted as Qui-Gon whispered that it was their stop.

Obi-Wan sat up with a jolt as he realized that at some point he had decided that Qui-Gon’s warm shoulder was better than the cold-hard surface of the window. Mentally thanking the cover of darkness for covering the heat he could feel flooding his face, Obi-Wan got to his feet and followed Qui-Gon out of the bus and into the pouring rain.

This time, Qui-Gon didn’t say anything, but held out his umbrella so it covered Obi-Wan as he got out.

Obi-Wan stared at the other man, but Qui-Gon completely ignored him in favor of looking down the road towards their respective cottages.

Taking a deep breath Obi-Wan let out a soft, “Sorry for earlier.”

“That’s okay,” He couldn’t really see Qui-Gon’s face in the dim light of the street, but his voice sounded relieved. “Are you ready to head home?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan kept in step with Qui-Gon to stay under the umbrella on the way home. The pitter-patter of rain on the umbrella keeping them close.

Obi-Wan’s cottage was up first and Obi-Wan stopped at the gate, a moment of indecision making his hand hover on the latch.

“Do you want to come in? For tea.” Obi-Wan added st the last second. Good Lord, he was lonelier than he thought, but he also knew it was well past time to bury the hatchet.

“If you want?” Qui-Gon sounded more confused than interested, but Obi-Wan led them to his covered door anyway. 

“Come on in.” Obi-Wan stood to the side as he took of his soaked coat and shuffled off his boots. Qui-Gon shut the door behind him, and looked awkwardly around the living room.

“I’ll… put some water to boil.” Obi-Wan said quickly, ignoring the chill that was settling in after being nearly drenched in the rain. His hair had dried on the bus, but his collar was still slightly damp under his coat making it tempting to slip into his room to change into something else while the water boiled.

Feeling a bit silly, Obi-Wan peered around the corner. Qui-Gon’s back was turned as he studied Obi-Wan’s three-hundred year old fireplace. Obi-Wan took his chance and slipped down the short hall to slip into a different shirt and bonus sweater.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan had his hands tucked into the sleeves of the sweater as he rubbed his arms trying to get warm when he walked in on Qui-Gon kneeling in front of the fireplace and messing about with a log and kindling.

Qui-Gon jumped, making the pile he had created to slump to the side.

“Ah, I just thought I’d start a fire. It was a bit cold…” Qui-Gon trailed off guiltily.

Obi-Wan stared blankly, not sure what to say when he heard the electric kettle go off. “Ah, sure, that’s fine.”

He retreated back into the kitchen and made Qui-Gon a cup of tea like he knew he liked it. With two cups and saucers in hand he returned to where a bright fire was now burning.

Qui-Gon looked abashed as he stood and took the offered cup and saucer. “It’s a lovely fireplace.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, his heart in his throat as he almost fell into old habits of rambling historical facts that Qui-Gon always seemed to enjoy. 

“Thank you,” He choked out instead as he sat down in the chair nearest to the fire, drawn by the warmth and flickering light.

“Right…” Qui-Gon took a sip of tea before shuffling over to the couch to sit down. The soft clack of dishes sounding loud between them.

“I really am sorry, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon’s words tripped over themselves so quickly that Obi-Wan had to repeat it over in his head before he realized what he had said. His stomach twisted, he needed to let it go.

“You already said that. It’s fine.”

“It’s clearly not.” Qui-Gon set down his tea and opened his hands pleadingly. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen— I messed up, I didn’t realize that you roses meant so much to you—”

“So what did you think I was doing in my garden every morning?” Obi-Wan said flatly.

Qui-Gon looked at him wide-eyed, the reflection of the fire glowing in them.

Obi-Wan ran his hand through his hair thinking back to the moments of possibility that had almost been. And now all he could feel was a dawning sense of humiliation. He must have seemed like a flower yearning for the sun, turning towards Qui-Gon’s light. Did Qui-Gon delight in it? Did he just see Obi-Wan as a lovesick fool?

“I thought—”

“You thought wrong—” Obi-Wan snapped. Frustrated more with himself than Qui-Gon.

“I should go.” Qui-Gon stood, rubbing the back of his neck as he grabbed his coat and umbrella.

Obi-Wan didn’t stop him, even though the whole point of inviting him in had been to put this behind them. He didn’t know what he was doing now. He had liked Qui-Gon, but he felt like his legs had been swept out from underneath him and now he wondered how much he and Qui-Gon liked each other versus the idea of one another. How much of their connection had just been the attraction of someone else being interested.

The door shut behind Qui-Gon before Obi-Wan could bring himself to say goodbye. Obi-Wan told himself that it was fine, that it had been a bad idea to invite Qui-Gon over anyway. He rubbed his knuckles over his sternum wishing it didn’t feel so tight as he stared at the log until the weight of it cracked and smothered the flame. It didn’t make any sense, but the cottage managed to feel even colder after that, and Obi-Wan had to throw on another blanket before he went to bed. 

He didn’t sleep well that night and woke with the grey light of dawn outside his window.

Obi-Wan tried to get some work done. Despite everything, he still loved his garden and if he wanted to revive his prize Juliet roses it would take a lot of care and patience. It was too early for Qui-Gon to make an appearance, and Obi-Wan disappeared back inside to actually get some writing done.

He was startled away from staring at his blinking cursor by his phone ringing.

“Kenobi.” He answered. 

“Obi-Wan, I’m glad I caught you.” Siri’s normal cheerfulness had been replaced by concern, and no small amount of sorrow. 

“Siri. What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan sat back in his chair in shock as Siri explained that her first prize rose bush had been all but destroyed the night before. 

“But who would do that?” Obi-Wan asked. The competition was intense, but usually friendly in a small town sort of way. 

“Whoever it was, Obi-Wan, it was spiteful. They covered my beds in salt after doing the damage. I’ll have to start over completely. We were lucky to save the bushes themselves, but I am out of the competition for the year. Which brings me to why I called. How would you like to take my place this year? I’ve already talked to Jocasta and Dooku, and they agreed to let you take my place.”

“Siri, I don’t know. My Juliets…” Obi-Wan trailed off, his mind spinning. “Siri, what did you say happened to your blooms? About the holes?”

“They were sprayed with something, made it look like they were covered in insect damage, the only way we figured it out was whoever did it was careless enough to leave their trash behind.”

Obi-Wan spine straightened. It sounded eerily familiar to what had happened to his roses overnight. A slowly growing suspicion started tugging at the corner of his mind.

“I could call Maul if you don’t want to enter, but there’s something off about that man.”

“I’ll do it.” Obi-Wan decided. He would enter the Demasks with his head held high, as Yoda would have, and then, no matter the outcome, talk to Qui-Gon and apologize. It was the least the other man deserved after Obi-Wan had blamed him for what had happened.

“Thank god, the Festival is tomorrow, you’ll need to come over to get the form and it needs to be submitted tonight. We can fax it over.”

Obi-Wan quickly agreed and ran out the door still throwing on his coat. Siri was close enough that he could bike there within a few minutes. He didn’t see the dark figure standing down the road watching him go.

When he arrived, Siri was waiting in her garden to show him the damage and with ice in his stomach, he explained what had happened to his Juliet roses. The damage was almost identical, rough holes covering both petals and foliage. 

Suspicion lit in Siri’s eyes, “Obi-Wan, I thought maybe it was an ex of mine, but if we were both targeted then whoever did it—”

“You think they were trying to take out the competition?” Obi-Wan put into words the thought that had been growing ever since he spoke to Siri.

“Exactly.” Siri frowned worriedly, “Here, let’s get the form done and then you should head home. If you want some help watching your garden tonight let me know.”

Sick to his stomach, Obi-Wan followed inside and filled out the form. The person he wanted to ask for help he had rejected again and again, letting his own hurt push away a friend before anything more could develop. Qui-Gon hadn’t deserved that, or at least deserved an explanation.

Obi-Wan let out a heavy sigh as he signed the last page and handed the pile of papers to Siri to fax. When he got back, he decided, he would knock on Qui-Gon’s door and try to explain, and more importantly say sorry. It was probably too late to salvage the first bud of their relationship, but perhaps they could find a sort of cordiality with one another again.

Siri shooed him out the door with a promise to come over that night with her girlfriend to help keep watch, as much to keep Obi-Wan’s roses safe as to find the perpetrator.

Obi-Wan zoomed past green pastures and sheep as he pedaled back to his house, heart beating faster as he rode up the last hill and saw Mace Windu’s police car, red and blue lights cycling across his garden. Panicked, Obi-Wan pedaled even harder and practically jumped off his bike, letting it fall to the ground as he reached Mace, who was shoving someone into the car.

“Mace?! What’s going on?”

The sheriff looked up, “Oh good, you made it back.” Mace slammed the door shut and approached with his hands up. “Now, I know you really love your roses—”

Obi-Wan ducked down to see who was in the vehicle. “Maul?! What did he do?” Obi-Wan tried to look around Mace to see his garden. 

Mace waved his hands to grab Obi-Wan’s attention, “Hey, hey, I got a call about some possible vandalism—I told him not to interfere, but when has Qui-Gon Jinn ever listened to me.” 

“Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan shouted, a wave of unexpected fear making him push past Mace to see Qui-Gon sitting on the step of his cottage, nursing a bloody nose.

It took only a split second to see the mass destruction that had become of his garden. Rose bushes laid on the ground left and right, broken stems and soon to be wilting flowers strewn every which way, but it was Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan ran to.

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan reached out, barely touching Qui-Gon’s face as he looked at the damage. The other man had more than one yellow glow of a new bruise combined with dozens of scratches, probably from the thorns.

“I’m fine.” Qui-Gon’s voice was muffled from the blood, but he managed to smile through it all the same.

Behind him Mace sighed, “Your boyfriend there decided it was a good idea to try and stop Maul instead of just waiting like I told him to. He already said he doesn’t want to be taken to urgent care.”

Obi-Wan ignored the insinuation completely, “Are you sure? Did you hit your head at all?”

“No.” Qui-Gon shook his head, his lips lightly brushing Obi-Wan’s palm as he did so, “Just a bit scrapped up. I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I thought I could stop him and—” Qui-Gon grimaced and looked at Obi-Wan’s garden, “I think I just managed to make things worse.”

Obi-Wan let himself follow Qui-Gon’s gaze to his remains of his garden. There wasn’t even a single untouched bush. The two men must have rolled and smashed nearly every plant there. For a second Obi-Wan allowed himself to mourn the work and love he had put into every stem before he refocused.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Qui-Gon’s expression collapsed, “They’re only roses. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Obi-Wan wrapped his hand around Qui-Gon’s much to the utter bewilderment of the other man and helped him to his feet.

“I’m assuming you want to press charges?” Mace asked dryly.

“Yes, of course. I think, we think, that Maul went after Siri’s roses too. We’ll come to the station tomorrow if that’s alright?” Obi-Wan answered quickly as he opened his door and ushered Qui-Gon inside.

“Fine with me. We’ll see you then.” Mace was definitely smirking as he answered. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes before he closed the door and faced Qui-Gon. 

“Well—go and sit down, I need to get the first aid kit.” As flustered as Obi-Wan felt, he was grateful for something to do, and when he came back to the living room with kit in hand he managed to keep his momentum going long enough to kneel in front of Qui-Gon and begin taking out bandages and alcohol wipes. 

“Obi-Wan? I don’t… I feel like a complete clod.”

Obi-Wan gently took Qui-Gon’s chin in his hands and began wiping away the blood off his face. His nose thankfully no longer bleeding. 

“Let me assure you the feeling is mutual.” Obi-Wan took the opportunity to look down at Qui-Gon’s hands, rough and strong with woodwork and littered with scraps and bruised knuckles. “We need to clean these… this might sting a little.”

Qui-Gon hissed a little as Obi-Wan gently wiped the numerous cuts, making sure that they were clean before bandaging them up. For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was the soft ticking of the clock.

“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan startled them both as the words that had been sitting in his heart finally slipped out. Qui-Gon’s eyes were wide-eyed and caught the light from the window turning them a bright blue. Obi-Wan looked away again and gently taped the last scrap on Qui-Gon’s hand with a bandage.

“I’ve been an asshole, I should have at least explained instead of giving you the silent treatment. I know it wasn’t your fault what happened to my roses—”

“It might as well have been.” Qui-Gon said softly, pulling one of his hands away to rub his brow. “I always put them, the snails I mean, on the ground, but I thought it was more like a hobby for you I guess, I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you if something happened and now…” Qui-Gon pulled his other hand away and smiled sadly at Obi-Wan, “Now I’ve managed to ruin everything haven’t I?”

Obi-Wan sat back on his ankles and bit his lip as he stared up at Qui-Gon, trying to put into words the emotional mess he felt. “No… I’m pretty sure I did that first Qui-Gon. I… I should have explained from the beginning I guess.” Obi-Wan laughed half-heartedly.

“I’m… maybe not the best with new relationships?” Obi-Wan looked up through his lashes. “Everything felt so perfect with you, I didn’t understand it, but I liked it, and then that shattered the moment I saw—” Obi-Wan twisted his fingers together, “I do love my roses, but the Juliet bush was the last gift I had from my mentor, it’s a living growing thing that I can still remember him by and when it got hurt it felt like my idea of what we had was as stupid as I always wondered it might be. And then— I was awful to you Qui-Gon!”

Obi-Wan looked up, ready to see pity or disgust, but willing to face it all the same. Instead the look Qui-Gon was giving him was somehow soft and heartbreakingly sad.

“It’s okay—you were hurting, I just didn’t know how to make it better.” 

“I didn’t really give you a chance to.” Obi-Wan smiled tremulously and startled when he felt the warmth of Qui-Gon’s hand cradle his cheek until their eyes met.

“Maybe we can start again?” Qui-Gon asked softly. “I know I’m not much good, but I can try to help you put back together your garden again.”

Obi-Wan held onto Qui-Gon’s hand and leaned into it. “I’d like that… and next time let the bastard destroy my garden okay? If he had a knife or something he could have killed you.”

Qui-Gon’s expression went carefully blank and with sudden alarm Obi-Wan got to his knees and started pushing up Qui-Gon’s shirt looking for hidden injuries.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon yelped as Obi-Wan managed to get the shirt up around his shoulders.

“He had a knife?!” Obi-Wan shouted back as he looked for any excess of blood. Thankfully all the small cuts and dozens of bruises blooming on Qui-Gon’s skin looked like they had been dealt by rose bushes rather than a homicidal maniac. 

“Yes, but I got it away from him—I’m really fine, I promise. Can I put my shirt down now?”

“You should let me clean up these cuts too.” Obi-Wan said testily.

Qui-Gon responded by pulling his shirt off the rest of the way, stunning Obi-Wan momentarily now that he wasn’t hyper fixated on finding a hidden wound.

“Happy now?” Qui-Gon tilted his head, a slight smile growing on his lips as a blush bloomed on Obi-Wan cheeks.

“Yes, actually.” Obi-Wan mentally berated himself as he tried to focus on cleaning up Qui-Gon’s scraps instead of the soft warm skin beneath his fingers. Finally, Obi-Wan gave Qui-Gon permission to put his shirt back on and stood to put the first aid kit away making a paper fall out of his pocket.

“What’s that?” Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan frowned as he picked up the entry transfer form, knowing it was useless now, all but a handful of his beautiful Juliet roses had been destroyed in the scuffle, in addition to the other varieties Maul had ruined with acid before Qui-Gon’s arrival. Obi-Wan was fortunate that Qui-Gon had intervened before Maul had started to sterilize the ground as he had with Siri’s. She would be able to save her plants and their roots, but it would take months to repair the damage. 

“Obi-Wan, what’s wrong?” Qui-Gon’s gentle hands cradled Obi-Wan’s face, whipping away the burning tears Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed he had begun to shed.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, “I think Maul went after Siri’s garden after he didn’t win. Since I came in second, she asked me to take her place— but it doesn’t matter anymore, I don’t think there is anything left.” 

“Wait, Obi-Wan, the Lady Of Shalott roses are still safe. They bloomed today. I was coming over to tell you, and try to apologize, when I saw Maul creeping about. Can you enter those?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, eyes still down cast. “No. I would have needed to be the one to grow them.”

Qui-Gon let out an incredulous chuckle. “But you did grow them. Without you taking care of them almost every day, they would have shriveled and died. They are yours, much more than they are mine.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his hand across his face, staring at the entry form. The whole competition felt like a different life. It had almost cost him his friendship with Qui-Gon and probably years of work in his garden. “I don’t know…”

Qui-Gon stood up and wrapped his hands around Obi-Wan’s, “I know nothing has gone the way you wanted it to, but let me show you? I want to give that back to you at least.”

Obi-Wan stared wide-eyed, his heart pitter-pattering as his cheeks got warm. He needed to be grateful for Qui-Gon’s friendship and stop day-dreaming. That’s what got him into trouble in the first place. “Yes, I guess, okay.” 

Qui-Gon thankfully ignored Obi-Wan stumbling over his own words and led him out of the cottage still holding his hand. The garden was still a ruined mess, but Qui-Gon guided him through it to the side-garden between their cottages. A few plants were almost unscathed, but it was Qui-Gon’s Lady of Shalott hanging over the stone wall that truly shined. The small, early blooms held no comparison to the large blooms that glowed yellow in the center and gradually turned a soft orange pink as they opened up to the sun.

“Oh, they are beautiful, Qui-Gon.”

“Yes, they are.” Yet, when Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon, his friend wasn’t looking at the roses at all, but staring at Obi-Wan with a bittersweet smile.

“You’ve been taking care of them this whole time?” Obi-Wan asked, hoping he wasn’t imagining the look in Qui-Gon’s eyes.

“I tried to remember everything you told me, and kept the snails away from it the best I could.” Qui-Gon gave a self-deprecating smile.

Obi-Wan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and in a moment of weakness he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Qui-Gon’s chest. The man tensed, before slowly letting his arms encircle Obi-Wan in return.

“Thank you.”

Obi-Wan definitely didn’t imagine the kiss to the top of his head, and when he pulled back their faces were only inches apart. He knew he shouldn’t, that his friendship with Qui-Gon had already been through hell and back and he shouldn’t risk it again, but Qui-Gon drew him in like a moth to flame.

It felt like a warm shock tingling through Obi-Wan’s lips as they met Qui-Gon’s. Obi-Wan tried to etch the moment in his mind, certain that he would lose it forever in any second.

And then Qui-Gon moved, meeting Obi-Wan and pulling him even closer. It felt like the perfection that Obi-Wan had missed for weeks but somehow better.

When they finally broke apart Obi-Wan felt almost dazed and lighter on his feet then he could remember.

“So, um, will you come with me to the Festival tomorrow?” Obi-Wan stared up with a shy smile as Qui-Gon grinned happily back in return.

* * *

“He’s doing it again.” Obi-Wan thought with a smile, lifting the tray of cups and tea as he watched Qui-Gon bend forward in the warm afternoon sun, carefully moving snails off of the garden’s stone path. He could almost hear Qui-Gon’s voice telling them to steer clear of Obi-Wan’s planters as he carefully placed them in one of Qui-Gon’s wild planting boxes, far away from the award winning Juliet and Lady Of Shalott rose bushes, no longer grown for contests, but for tea and the simple pleasure of their beauty. 

Not that it would do much good, the snails had minds of their own and would eventually make their way to the fragrant blooms no matter how much Obi-Wan tried to keep them out. 

But as Qui-Gon stood to greet Obi-Wan, taking his hand and the tray of tea, not even snails could stop the joy blossoming in Obi-Wan’s heart. 


End file.
